The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (40 page)

“Wi’out seconds, sir, or anyone else t’witness, what’s t’keep th’ Kallian from pullin’ some dirt?”

“Nothing. I’ve got to assume the landgrave is a gentleman.”

“A’ter Kait, an’ th’ Tovieti, an’ what happened in th’ retreat, you’re still willin’ t’give Malebranche th’ doubt?”

“I don’t have any other choice, now do I?”

Lance Karjan muttered something he refused to repeat more loudly when I asked him, and asked to be excused after he readied my bath.

I did not see Marán before the duel, and I avoided Tenedos as well. I was fairly sure if he learned about the matter he’d try to use it politically and somehow damage Malebranche and hopefully his master. In the process he would also save my life, but that was the least of my concerns. All I could feel was red hatred when I thought of the Kallian. I knew this was wrong, not morally — for anyone who would ally himself with the stranglers of Thak deserved no kindness — but because anger is no good way to fight. Finally I was able to reach a state of cool detachment, and felt proud.

I sent a polite note to Marán, thanking her for allowing me to escort her to the ball. I thought long and hard for some way of saying what I felt, but was afraid the note might pass into the hands of her husband. Finally I added that the night had provided memories that would never die. I wished I was more clever, but that was the best I could manage. I hoped she would understand.

I heard nothing for a day, then a messenger from her household brought me an envelope.

It was unsigned. All the note consisted of was a time and day and an address. The date was noon, one day after I was to meet Landgrave Malebranche, and a line at the bottom said to present this note. I managed to ride down that particular street while carrying a dispatch to Domina Lehar at the palace, who was dancing close attendance on the Great Conference, and saw we were to meet at one of Nicias’s more exclusive restaurants, and didn’t know whether to find good or bad fortune in that.

Now all I had to do was live through the encounter with Malebranche.

• • •

I suppose I should have tossed and turned the night before the duel, but I didn’t. I ate lightly, for fear of a stomach wound, prayed briefly to Tanis and Panoan, since in an odd way I would be representing Nicias, and went to bed early. My mind wanted to insist on planning the morrow, but I refused it permission. My father had said one of the worst things a soldier can do is try to determine the course of a fight — he’ll send premature messages to his body, which it’ll try to obey even when the foe is doing something entirely unexpected.

I came fully awake when Lance Karjan touched my shoulder, and washed and dressed quickly. Lucan and Karjan’s black were saddled out front, and Karjan had the case with the two swords I’d borrowed from the arms room, blades with a reach, weight, and balance similar to the weapon I preferred, which was another small advantage.

My knife was light-bladed and long, almost eleven inches in length, razor-sharpened on one side and about halfway along the upper edge. It had a false hilt, a small fingerhold just below the hilt so it would be far handier than its length suggested.

I’d noted Landgrave Malebranche’s knife had a blade about eight inches long, which would give him the advantage — a shorter blade is always deadlier in a knife fight. But I didn’t intend to fight as if I were a tavern bully.

The streets of the cantonment were deserted except for the sentries, and I answered their challenge and was passed through onto the city streets. I had the time calculated carefully, so we’d arrive at the dueling ground just at first light.

Lucan wanted to run, feeling the pure joy of being in the country, when we came out of Nicias, but I held him back. The near-dawn wind came off the river, carrying all the scents of the wild with it, and I let it fill my lungs. Even though the river we rode beside was mostly slough, it still smelled better than anything I could breathe in a city.

The Isle of Bones is so named because the river’s current constantly washes driftwood up on its sandy beaches, driftwood that whitens and ages until the island’s rim looks like it’s lined with the skeletons of giants. It’s only about a mile long, has a few trees and, in its center, an open, sandy area that’s surrounded by bushes, perfect for two men who did not wish to be disturbed. The river is shallow enough to walk a horse across everywhere, so there’s no need to search for a ford.

Lucan splashed over, and I bent low as we pushed through the brush into the clearing. Landgrave Elias Malebranche was already there, his horse tethered to a tree. He was alone, as we’d agreed.

I dismounted, tied up Lucan, and took the cased weapons from Karjan.

“You can wait on the road for me. If I’ ve not returned within the hour, I’ve told you what to do.”

Karjan wasn’t looking at me, but at the Kallian. A queer smile touched his bearded lips.

“Aye, sir,” he said. “Those
were
your orders.” He saluted, wheeled his horse, and disappeared.

I walked to meet Malebranche.

“Good morning.”

“It is that,” he agreed.

I opened the case, set it on the ground, and stepped back. He picked up each blade in turn, hefted it, checked it for temper, and made a couple of short thrusts.

“I’ll use this one.”

I picked up the other and walked to the center of the clearing. Malebranche followed. I chose a good spot, and turned. Malebranche eyed the ground, and moved to my left, about ten feet distant.

“When the sun first shows, we’ll fight,” I said. “Agreed.”

It grew lighter by the second, and I tensed, breathing deeply, steadily, from the bottom of my lungs as I’d been trained.

I’d taken but three breaths when there was a sudden shout of surprise from the brush behind me, a clang of steel, and a scream and then three dull thunks, like an ax cutting rotten wood. Malebranche jumped in surprise, and his knife slipped into his hand.

From the cover, four horsemen burst out. I had a moment to think — betrayal! Then I saw the first man was Yonge. The other three I did not know.

Malebranche went on guard as the four rode toward us, but they pulled their horses in before they rode him down.

Raw anger filled me, not knowing what the hells had happened. Then I saw Yonge held a man’s severed head by the hair. He threw it down in the sand at Malebranche’s feet. Two others landed beside it, thrown by his henchmen.

A fifth horseman, Karjan, trotted out of the clearing’s other side. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “But some orders come before others.”

I saw the sun’s arc through the trees, but no one, including myself, paid any mind. I was completely befuddled, but then saw Malebranche’s face, dark with anger … and something else.

“Your friends should learn to watch their back,” Yonge said. “They’d live but an hour if they were in my hills.”

“I warned you, sir,” Karjan put in.

Now it was clear. That I’d ever expected the Kallian, a man of shadows and dark deceit, to be honorable in any manner was stupid. His letter of concern that we should keep our meeting a secret was the setup for a trap. I recognized two of the heads: They were the men who’d served as Chardin Sher’s bodyguards at the ball, no doubt ruffians under Malebranche’s command.

The Kallian cursed, lifted his blade, and two of Yonge’s friends had short bows up, arrows pulled to the head.

“You tell us, Captain á Cimabue, when we are to kill him,” Yonge said.

I should have told them to loose then and there. It would have saved some lives and me a certain amount of grief. But I did not Even now, a far older and more hardened man, I don’t think I would have given that order.

“No!” I ordered. “He is mine! Landgrave Malebranche, the sun has risen. We had an agreement. Ready yourself, sir.”

Malebranche grinned, and started toward me.

“If he kills me,” I snapped over my shoulder, “he’s yours.”

Malebranche’s grin tightened, and became the fixed snarl of a trapped jackal.

I noted how he came at me, sword in a conventional fighting stance, but his knife was held blade down against his hip. Very good, I thought As I hoped. He does fight like a wineshop bravo. Now we shall see what we shall see.

My small secret was that one of the ways I’d been trained to fight was with sword and dagger, which is a fairly esoteric discipline. In this style the dagger is used as a parrying weapon, and only serves to strike if the two combatants close, to take advantage of a slip or to finish the battle.

Malebranche struck, a feint, and, as I parried, he jumped sideways and his knife shot forward. He was quick, very quick, but that was pretty much the attack I’d expected, and so I slashed at his wrist with my dagger and we were both back on guard.

He circled to his right, trying to get to the outside of my guard, and I turned with him, then sidestepped and flicked my blade for his throat. He jerked his head back, but my sword’s keen edge gashed his cheek open, and his blond beard reddened.

He grunted in pain, and struck at me, a slash I barely evaded that cut through my tunic.

Without recovering, he came at me in a continuous attack, and our swords were hilt to hilt, and I blocked his knife away with my dagger. He tried to knee me in the groin, but I turned, smashing his shoulder muscle with the butt of my dagger, leaping away, but not quite quickly enough, as his knife seared along my ribs.

Then sand between us cycloned, and spattered at the Kallian. He shouted in pain, stumbled, and fell, momentarily blinded.

I heard Karjan shout, “Kill the fughpig!” but I did not move. I somehow sensed that wind’s sending.

Malebranche rubbed his eyes, trying to come to his feet, and a voice came:

“Do not move, Kallian, and set your weapons down. If you do not, I shall slay you where you lie. Obey me, and you shall see no harm.” The voice, of course, was that of Seer Tenedos.

Malebranche gaped, and obeyed. He scuttled backward, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“There is only one reason you are permitted to live, Landgrave Elias Malebranche, and that is I wish no stain on the reputation of Captain Damastes á Cimabue.

“He is not only a friend, but important to me and soon shall be equally vital to all Numantians.

“Believe me, you, and your dog of a master, will rue that your villains were not able to murder him, because Kallio will run deep with blood, yours part of that river, because of his doings in the near future, a future I see most plain.

“Now rise, leaving your weapons where they are, go to your horse, and ride away. Do not look back, or your doom shall not be delayed even a moment longer.”

Malebranche, his face as pale as his skin, paying no mind to the blood pouring from his face, scrambled to his feet, ran for his horse, fumbled its reins free, flung himself into the saddle, and galloped away.

Tenedos’s voice came once more, but this as no more than a whisper: “Captain á Cimabue, when you return to the city, and your cut is bandaged, come immediately to my quarters!”

• • •

“You are an idiot!”

“Yes, sir.”

“An utter moron!”

“Yes, sir!”

“I thought the tales about Cimabuans being thicker than bricks were falsehoods, but now I wonder!” Tenedos stormed. “Yes, sir.” I was at rigid attention.

“I only heard of this matter last midnight, from Yonge, so all I had time to prepare was a spell to hopefully save you from your foolishness.

“What in the name of any god you choose were you thinking? Did you imagine you could kill Chardin Sher’s assistant, who, as you probably do not know, was yesterday named as envoy to stay on in Nicias after the conference ends, without your own head rolling in the gutter?”

“Sir, he deliberately sought a fight.”

“Do you
always
have to do what people always want you to?”

“It was a matter of honor.”

“Honor can be easily redeemed without swordplay, sir!” Tenedos snapped.

“It was not mine, but … someone else’s.”

Tenedos stopped his pacing and stared at me.

“Mayhap the Countess Agramónte and Lavedan?”

I did not answer.

Tenedos’s anger vanished.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Since you are a gentleman, and would not answer me, I shall not inquire as to how far this matter has gone, even though my question would be fueled less by prurience than politics. Nor will I make any suggestions as what you should do nor not do regarding the countess. I assume you well know how powerful her husband is.

“By the gods, Damastes, it’s hard to keep you alive long enough to fulfill my promises to you!”

“Yes, sir. But I was not the one who pulled on Chardin Sher’s beard that he doesn’t have.”

“No. No you weren’t. But that was calculated, unlike … unlike some other matters.” Tenedos sat down, rubbing his forehead, thinking. Then he rose.

“I have a seminar to instruct some dominas in how weather magic can help them win battles in fifteen minutes, so you’ll excuse me. Oh yes.” He went to a desk, and took out a leather bag. “Here’s gold enough to get some very good friends of yours very drunk to repay a very large debt.”

“No thank you, sir,” I said. “I have money of my own. And if it’s not enough, I’ll sell my sword for more.”

“Very good. Consider this somewhat regrettable episode set aside. But don’t wander into dark places to meet men with disreputable reputations any more than you have to. I don’t know where I’d find your replacement.”

I wanted to ask Tenedos exactly what place he saw for me, but then doubted if I’d want the answer, even if he knew it. I saluted and left. I had to find a tavern to rent.

• • •

Yonge grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me close. His words were slurred, since he was very drunk. I was not much better. Although I’d held myself to only a handful of brandies, my normally sober ways were not helping matters at all. Karjan was trying to convince the tavern lass she really didn’t want to sleep alone, and Yonge’s three associates, disreputable and dangerous friends he’d made in his whoring about Nicias, were singing a ballad — three ballads, actually, none of them capable of understanding the others’ bellows.